


small talk

by synthehol_king



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bad Decisions, Hookups, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:21:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26808043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synthehol_king/pseuds/synthehol_king
Summary: Garak and Quark share a conversation.
Relationships: Elim Garak/Quark, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	small talk

**Author's Note:**

> **cw:** alcohol, implied hookups
> 
> wrote this while tipsy ngl
> 
> inspired by a twitter convo w/spacebubble

“ _Brunt_? Really?”

Quark laughs, tilting back his head in a way that Garak can only describe as obnoxious and charming. Which were rather apt descriptors for Quark in general, he supposes. Though he’d be unlikely to admit to the latter under normal circumstances. Normal circumstances being when he wasn’t sharing more than a half a bottle of kanar with the bartender.

Jadzia’s parties weren’t usually this dull. Normally he’d have Bashir to satisfy his need for conversation and snide remarks, but given that _he_ was currently trying his luck with yet another unremarkably beautiful science officer on the couch, he’d had little other choices for company. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Quark; he liked the Ferengi’s unabashed dislike of Federation expectations, and he certainly liked his frequent patronage. But he was rather coarse, and had little patience for Cardassian small talk or metaphors. With Bashir he could spend hours paraphrasing a scenario which ultimately led to the most banal of incidences; with Quark, not so much.

And, truth be told, there was a great deal he’d rather being doing with Bashir besides idle conversation in the corner of Jadzia’s quarters.

But Garak was adaptable. 

“You know the saddest part...it wasn’t that bad,” Quark continues, drawing Garak’s attention away from the hand Bashir was resting on the science officer’s knee. Quark is leaning towards him conspiratorially, and speaking at a volume he has to strain to listen to. “Between you and me...I expected that ridiculous necklace he wears to be compensating for something, but...”

“I’m more surprised that he wasn’t a more... _receptive_ partner, if you’ll pardon my assumption,” Garak clears his throat, matching the other’s low tone. Such conversation is beneath him, he knows, but the details of Quark’s love life were proving to be unexpectedly compelling, and Quark is more than willing to share.

Quark knits his brow in confusion for a moment, sorts out the thinly veiled subterfuge, then laughs again. “You mean...you though he was...” He nods at the way Garak waves his hand, relenting to his discretion. “No. Not even a little. Which is good. Because otherwise I wouldn’t have...you know.”

Garak smiles, looking at Quark with little concealment of his amusement. “Never?”

“I mean, I _have_ , but...” Now Quark is the one looking to be discreet, glancing around the room as though anyone else were bothering to look their way. He looks at Garak as though he’s just discovered a deeply held secret. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”

“I may have _presumed_ ,” he admits, still smiling. “Your previous partners that you have been so gracious to enlighten me to don’t strike me as the ‘receptive’ type.”

Quark smirks, looking down. When he looks back up at Garak through lowered eyelids, it’s oddly compelling. “You don’t seem much like the ‘receptive’ type yourself.”

Garak stares at him. Leaning forward, with his collar hanging open ever so slightly, he notices the way the lump in his throat bobs following his remark, and when his eyes trail back up to his face, there’s a hint of nervousness hidden within his gaze. If they were playing tongo, Garak would have caught his bluff and bled him dry.

Garak’s smile draws wider. He still might; the night was young, after all.

“No, I suppose I don’t,” he replies, leaning forward on his elbows without breaking Quark’s gaze. “Though I’d love to hear your reasoning, Quark.”

Quark swallows, his tongo face loosing its grip by the second. Still, his voice doesn’t tremble when he says, “I’d love to tell you about it. Perhaps somewhere more private?”

Garak lets out a quiet chuckle. Quark’s brazeness might have offended him at some point in his life, but certainly not now, twelve years after living on a floating hunk of metal lightyears away from his home and sensibilities. And not when he was twenty feet away from a certain chief medical officer chatting up a woman whose name he wouldn’t remember by the end of the week. No, now it was something he found quite intriguing, and maybe a little charming.

He takes another moment to appraise him, reveling in the way it seems to exasperate Quark. Tilting his head towards the door, he nods, and Quark practically sighs with relief at the small gesture.

“I’m sure our hostess wouldn’t mind hearing our goodbyes in the morning,” Garak smiles. “Your quarters aren’t far from here, I believe?”

Quark smiles back, showing a hint of sharp teeth behind his smirk. “No, not at all.”

“Good.”

There was something to be said about Ferengi small talk. It certainly didn’t waste time.

**Author's Note:**

> might add another chapter? if i do i’ll have to change the rating lol


End file.
